


Servants of Room 666

by onyxcaramel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Asian Character(s), Asian-American Character, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Character Turned Into Vampire, Demons, Devils, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, High School, Horny Teenagers, Latino Character, M/M, Magic, Multi, Paranormal, Supernatural Elements, Teenagers, Vampires, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyxcaramel/pseuds/onyxcaramel
Summary: The prestigious Ezra D. Buch Academy has always been a school surrounded by rumours. Tales of freak accidents, teachers going insane and serial killer janitors are well known by the inhabitants of the otherwise quiet suburb of Scarborough, earning it the nickname "Haunted High". There haven't been any accidents since 1981, but that's all about to change.What will happen when the detached, soul-searching Isaac, energetic swimming prodigy Ricky, macabre-loving thespian Pascal and charismatic student council President Kenneth all end up involuntarily bound to a contract to cause chaos and destruction? With no choice, will the boys maintain their sanity, or will they learn to love the evils from being a servant of Room 666?





	1. Isaac

Two years, two more to go. That's all that was on Isaac's mind as he sat in the dreary classroom on the fifth day of the second semester. Looking around the room, it all just seemed so pointless. The drab, white brick walls covered with outdated science posters featuring kids with mullets and acid washed jeans. The permanently stained and scuffed checkered floor. Even the gods seemed to be in on the entire joke, as one look out the window would reveal a grey, gloomy sky with no hope for sun within sight. He shifted his sights back to the class. There were rows and rows of teenagers, all dressed in uniform. For guys, it was a navy blue polo, some short sleeved, other long, and black dress pants. Isaac opted for the short sleeves. For girls, it was the same navy blue top and pants, but they also had the added option of a grey skirt. They all seemed so uninterested about the lecture being given by the middle-aged, balding man in front of the chalkboard, who seemed to resign himself to a life of mediocrity as well given his monotone voice and tawdry, tattered sweater vest. 

That was the worst part of it all. The indifference. The uniformity of it all. The absence of any urge to loathe how boring all of this was. Isaac just couldn't bring himself to care. 

He was in his junior year. He had done two years of this routine already. Get up. Go to school. Hang out with friends. Come home. Game with friends. Sleep. Repeat. Isaac tried to shake up the formula. He joined the drama club, the announcements team, even made the track team and placed second at city finals. None of it made Isaac care. 

He moved a few locks of his short, red hair out of his eyes as he stared at the front of the classroom. How did other people have fun in this place? He'd see people laugh and smile in the hallways. He'd overhear people make plans to hang out at the mall or to go to Jenny's house to get trashed. Of course, he did those things too. He laughed, smiled, went to the mall and although he didn't get trashed at Jenny's, he did drink, hang out and make out with Jenny. But unlike his peers, he didn't seem to feel the joy that they did. They seemed so elated. To Isaac, it all just seemed so trivial. 

It wasn't always like this. Isaac remembered feeling happy when he attended his first high school party. He remembered laughing until he cried at his friends' jokes. He remembered being unable to stop masturbating after he made out with Jenny the first time. It was only over the summer that things seemed to take such a grim turn. No longer did his world revolve around hanging out with his friends and trying to get into Jenny's pants. All he could feel was this desire to do more. To experience the world. To discover what his life's purpose was.

But he couldn't do that. Isaac shifted his eyes back to the window, looking at those dreary, grey clouds covering the cold, green field. Just beyond the field, he could spot his house. There was no way for him to truly live until he got out of that house, and there was no getting out of that house until he had a diploma in his hands. He couldn't drop out, as much as he wanted to. He just couldn't hurt his parents like that, who had been nothing been supportive of him. Plus, dropping out meant getting kicked out, which Isaac was certain he wouldn't be able to survive. He had no job and no money. All he could do was endure this boring life for the next two years. 

Isaac sat up briskly as the loud dinging of the bell snapped him out of his daydream. The redhead looked down at his notebook and read over some of the words he had written. The teen never even remembered writing any of this down. He shut his book and packed up his bag before promptly leaving the classroom. 

With his bag slung over one shoulder, Isaac made his way to his locker. He couldn't wait to go home, so he could do more nothing. Realistically, he was probably going to find some porn and masturbate, but that sounded better than staying on the premises of this school. There was a short vibration in his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he saw that his friend Nick had sent him a text asking him to hang out at McDonald's after. Nope. He'd still rather go home and masturbate. At least then he'd feel something. That sweet, sexual elation, even if it was only for seconds. It was better to feel something than nothing at all. 

24\. 13. 8. The lock popped open and the dingy, green locker opened up. Isaac reached down to the bottom of his locker to grab his math textbooks. As he picked them up to put them in his bag, he saw something unusual. Square in the middle of the bottom of his locker, there was an envelope. He picked it up. In big, bold, red letters, it read: ISAAC

“What the hell?” Isaac thought out loud. He tore open the envelope. Inside, there was a note with one statement written on it in the same red font: 

****

**“Come to Room 666.”**

While six floors might seem almost impossible for a high school, Ezra D. Buch Academy was a different beast. It was the destination for any teen who lived in the Scarborough region. Graduating from Ezra D. Buch, or E.D.B as it was colloquially known, was almost a guarantee that one would get into whatever college or university they were interested in. It was also in the Scarborough region of Toronto, which had a diverse range of cultures integrated into the community and identity of the suburb. E.D.B often served as the heart of the community, a true depiction of all that Scarborough had to offer. They held fundraisers and charity events to help with community issues, from cleaning up the beaches to buying new equipment for neighbourhood watch volunteers. Both of these factors resulted in E.D.B being one of the largest buildings in the entire region. There were six floors, a soccer field, baseball diamond, tennis courts, a pool, a theatre and even a hockey rink. 

Ezra. D. Buch Academy was colossal.

But even though there were six, long floors, Isaac couldn't recall ever seeing a room 666. He was certain it didn't exist, which lead him to believe that this was all a prank, which lead him to ask: who would want to prank him? Isaac definitely had some friends who would love indulging in making a fool of him, but there's no way it could be them. The envelope was beneath his textbooks. He hadn't moved his math textbooks in a couple of days, which meant someone either: opened his locker and slipped it underneath or stuffed it in his locker a few days prior. No one knew the combination to his lock, so it couldn't be the former, and it was highly improbable that it would land so neatly if it was the latter. 

As he ruminated as to how the envelope ended up in his locker, his eyes would linger on the text. The big, red letters seemed to pulse on the paper. It was as if they were beginning to jump off the page. He could feel his heart beat faster. The letters grew larger on the page. He read the sentence over and over again. “Come to Room 666.” He read as his breathing became shallow. “Come to Room 666.” 

# COME TO ROOM 666

Isaac dropped the letter. He looked down at his hands. Cold sweat slicked his palms and fingers. He turned around to see some of his peers staring at him from their own lockers, murmuring about the redhead's condition. Isaac wiped his hands on his pants, bent down and picked up the letter. His eyes widened. The page was blank. 

There was no room 666. Isaac was certain of it. Yet, in the back of his brain, there was something nagging him, urging him to go. Urging him to find room 666. A smile spread across his face. This was certainly better than more nothing.

Grabbing his bag, Isaac made his way to the nearest staircase and headed up to the sixth floor. Each floor of Ezra D. Buch was identical. They all consisted of three hallways. The first hallway ran from east to west and was the longest hallway of the three. The other two hallways ran north to south on either side of the long hallway, creating a rigid “U” shape. Isaac emerged from the eastern most hallway and began his search. He walked down the east hallway, along the long hallway and up the west hallway. There was no sign of room 666. He retraced his steps, looking at all of room numbers. There were sixty-five rooms on this floor, with room 665 at the very end of the western hallway, on the west wall. It was an old storeroom for the English department that they no longer used. 

Turning around 180 degrees, Isaac faced the opposite wall. This was where room 666 should be. Instead, there was just a white, brick wall. It looked like a normal wall. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, but for some reason, it was that very observation that bugged Isaac. He walked up to it, placing his hand on the bricks. He traced along the lines of the bricks with his finger, hoping to find something that might reveal this room he was searching for. 

Fifteen minutes had gone by. Fifteen minutes of Isaac surveying, listening, pressing, and pushing every inch of that wall, but to no avail. Surely if any of his peers had spotted him, they would have thought he was a lunatic. Maybe he was a lunatic. He was searching for something that clearly wasn't here. He took a few steps back, getting the entire wall in his view. His eyes scanned from bottom to top, then top to bottom. It was just a normal wall. 

Isaac sighed as he looked at the piece of paper that once had the words “Come to Room 666” written on it. “So stupid. Room 666.” Isaac mumbled to himself, shaking his head in disappointment. How could he believe something so stu--

The wall was gone. In it's place was a large, black gap. No. It wasn't black. Black was a colour. The gap wasn't so much black as it was just an absence of light. Standing in front of it, it seemed one-dimensional. Just a wide void in the otherwise white, brick wall. The strangest part of it all was that the gap somehow extended below the floor of the hallway and through the ceiling. Isaac could still see the ceiling and the floor, but he could visually see the gap going beyond both. It hurt to look at, the mere sight of the gap breaking the laws of physics making his brain throb in confusion. How could the gap extend through a closed floor and ceiling? He didn't understand, but there it was, right in front of him. 

He continued to stare in both awe and disbelief. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. The shortness of breath and sweaty palms returned. The part of his brain that was nagging him to find this place was now compelling him to approach it. And that's exactly what he did. His steps hadn't been this shaky since he was a toddler. He kept repeating to himself “Do I want really want to touch it?” before ultimately taking another step, and another, and another, until he stood right in front of the enigmatic void.

His fingers ran along the edge of the void. A shiver shot down Isaac's spine as he reeled back. It was freezing! Propelled by his burning curiousity, Isaac ran his fingers along the front of the gap again. It was still frigid, but his body seemed to have already acclimated to its subzero temperatures, the coldness of the gap no longer causing him to pull him away. Down the gap his fingers slid, which was a surprise to him. He was half expecting his fingers to go through the gap, but instead, he felt a flat surface underneath. His hand moved from the center of the door to the edge again. As he neared the edge, he felt the flat surface raise, yet his hand remained on the same plane as it was just moments ago near the center. 

Isaac closed his eyes, the visual trickery of the gap making it hard for him to concentrate. Both hands began to explore the gap. He noticed the edges of the gap were in fact raised compared to the center. It was raised along the top of the gap too, but not the bottom. If he were to guess, the edges were a frame of sorts, and if this was room 666, then this gap had to be the door. He validated his suspicions when his hand stumbled across something spherical near the right side of the door. There was no doubt in his mind that it was a door knob. 

Isaac took a deep breath. Once he opened this door, he knew there would be no turning back. Whatever laid behind this door was sure to change his life. He was certain of it. He opened his eyes, staring at the gap, confident about his decision. He had been waiting for something like this for forever. Now that the opportunity had found him, he couldn't let it go to waste, no matter how eerie and dangerous it seemed. Isaac turned the knob and pushed the door. Nothing changed in front of his eyes.

Until he looked down. 

Isaac's right hand had disappeared into the void. Isaac did his best not to panic, knowing that the formless gap had a way of playing tricks on his mind. He could still feel the door knob in his hand, but he just couldn't see it anymore. It had pushed beyond the seemingly flat surface of the void into nothingness. Looking at his arm, it was as if his hand had been completely severed by a shadow. He tightened his grip on the door knob, reaffirming to himself that he did still have his right hand. Reaching into his pocket with his other hand, Isaac pulled out his phone. Flicking through the screens, he turned on the flashlight and pointed it at the hand inside the void. It didn't illuminate a single thing. As he had noted before, the gap—or rather, the door—was devoid of any light. The light from his phone shined on his arm, but any light that touched the door disappeared. There was no reflection. It didn't get brighter. The light just simply ceased to exist once the rays hit that void. 

Turning off the flashlight and stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Isaac stepped forward, just inches away from the formless door. He reached out and grabbed the door knob with his left hand, watching as he lost sight of both of his arms as they disappeared into the blackness. Freeing his right hand, he slowly began waving his right hand back and forth, checking to see if there was space behind the door. He then bent down and ran his right hand along the floor, making sure that when he did entire, he wasn't going to fall into a bottomless void. There was indeed a floor.

With no other hesitations, Isaac knew that it was time. Steadying his nerves with a deep breath, Isaac stepped into the door and into the void.

Nothing.

There was nothing. It was as if Isaac had gone blind. He looked down and couldn't see his own body. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, but saw no light. He touched his face, making sure that his body was in tact, not sure what to expect now that he had entered the void. 

**_BANG!_**

Isaac jumped as he heard a loud bang behind him. He reached out to where he thought the door was. In his moment of panic, he had forgotten about the door. It had closed shut. Isaac yanked on the door knob, trying to turn it, but the door wouldn't budge. “Come on. Open up!” Isaac muttered out loud. As he struggled with the door, he would suddenly freeze. He held his breath and looked down, not that he could see anything. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be able to see at this moment...

...because there was something holding his leg.


	2. Pascal

The sun was starting to emerge and shine on Scarborough. Cars were beginning to fill the streets as everyone got ready to start their day. Pascal was already dressed, wearing a baggy, black hoodie with his hood up to protect him from the early morning chills and his black, uniform dress pants which were mandatory. The young teenager walked up the pathway to the entrance of Ezra D. Buch Academy. It was only his second semester here and he was still figuring things out, like where to sit at lunch and which teachers to avoid, but for the most part, he was enjoying his time in high school. 

Pascal arrived at the entrance of the school. He wiped his long, black bangs out of his face so he could peer into the hallways. He spotted a stout, older African-American man wearing a blue, button-up shirt and some jeans approaching the door. Pascal took a step back as the man opened the door. 

“Seven o'clock. Right on time.” The man said to Pascal.

“Thanks, Mr. Harrison.” Pascal replied. He walked with the older man down the hallway. “Has the person who borrowed Dr. Faustus returned it yet?” He asked as they turned the corner. 

“I thought you read it already.” Mr. Harrison replied. 

“I did. I wanted to reread it though. The auditions for the school musical are coming up and I was thinking I could do a passage from it for my audition.” 

“You wanted to do a passage from 'The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus' for your audition?” Mr. Harrison asked, his eyebrow cocked at the young teen. 

“Uh huh.” 

“Aren't they doing Grease this year?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't you think you should pick something a bit more upbeat for your audition? Grease and Faustus are very different tonally.” Mr. Henderson suggested. 

“I know.” Pascal replied. “But I'm already singing 'Those Magic Changes' for the vocal audition. I wanted to do something more dramatic for the acting part. I know I won't get the lead since they usually go to the juniors and seniors, but I figured if I make an impact with the Faustus monologue, they might remember me in case they do something like Sweeney Todd or Into the Woods.” Pascal explained. 

“It seems like you've thought this through a lot.” Mr. Henderson said as he opened the door to the library. Pascal nodded his head as he stepped inside, followed by Mr. Henderson.

It was almost pitch black in the library, the only light being provided by the windows that looked out onto the lit, school hallways. Mr. Henderson flicked a switch near the door, filling the room with light. Much like the rest of Ezra D. Buch Academy, the library was huge. There were three floors. The first floor was filled mostly with circular tables for students to work at and computers for others to do research. There were rooms along the sides which were available for booking in case students needed a more private space to work on a project. The check out desk jutted out of the east wall near the center of the room. Behind it was an office, where Mr. Henderson was currently looking through a pile of books. 

The second and third floors of the library were identical. They were filled with shelves upon shelves of books, both new and old. There were a few rectangular tables on each floor to provide more room for student collaboration. There were also more private rooms for group projects, as well as conference rooms, which were for students who required displays for any multimedia aspects of their projects. 

“Here it is.” Mr. Henderson said, exiting his office with a black book in hand. He gave it to Pascal. “I have to finish up prepping for my lessons, so you'll be alone for a while. If you need me, use the phone on the check-out counter. Two, four, four, followed by pound, alright?” 

“Got it.” Pascal said with a smile. The older male smiled back before walking through the doors. 

Pascal made his way to the third floor of the library, running up the stairs. He headed to the back of the floor, where there was a chair tucked away in a corner behind one of the shelves. It was his favourite spot because of how secluded and private it was. He plopped his bag down in front of him and sat down, bringing his legs onto the chair with his knees close to his chest. He opened up the book, wiped his bangs out of his eyes once again and began flipping through the book.

He had a few specific passages he wanted to reread to see which would suit him better for the audition. He thought about doing the closing soliloquy, which was one of his favourite passages ever, but as he flipped through the pages, he was confused. There were no words on the pages. He checked the first page, checked the last page, and a few in the middle. No words. Pascal looked at the front cover to make sure he had the right book. That's when things took a turn for the eerie. 

Where it had previously said “Doctor Faustus” just moments ago, now read “Room 666”. Was he going crazy? Pascal ran a finger along the cover of the book, trying to figure out what had happened. That's when he noticed the author's name, Christopher Marlowe, had been replaced as well. “Ezra Danzen Buch.” Pascal was perplexed as to why the founder of the academy was on the cover of this book. He began flipping through the pages. “What?” 

The previously blank pages were now covered from top to bottom in words. Pascal scanned the page, and the next one, and the next one. Every page consisted of just four words, repeated over and over again. “Come to Room 666. Come to Room 666. Come to Room 666.” Pascal read out loud. He shut the book, staring at the cover, which had the altered title and author still on the front. He opened the book to see if anything had changed. Nope. “Come to Room 666” continued to repeat through every page. 

Pascal began wondering if Mr. Henderson had handed him the wrong book. He was certain it was the right book when he grabbed it, but it was early and he never did function well in the mornings. Maybe he had thought he saw “Doctor Faustus” on the front. Pascal grabbed his bag and walked down to the first floor, heading behind the check-out counter. He launched the cataloguing program on the computer, grabbed the scanner and scanned the barcode on the back of the book. It beeped and a window popped up on the computer. As he suspected, the computer listed the barcode as a copy of “Doctor Faustus”. 

Nothing was making sense to him. He flipped through the book one more time, looking for something that might give him a clue as to what was happening. That's when he noticed that a fifth word had been added to the pattern. “Come to Room 666 now.” He read out loud. Then, they disappeared. Immediately, words reappeared, or rather one word. “Now!” That's all the book said. 

Pascal freaked out. He dropped the book onto the desk and noticed the cover had changed once again. On the front of the book, there was a big, black door. He stared at the door, feeling drawn to it. He ran his hand along the front of the book, his fingers tracing the center of the cover where the door was. “Ezra Danzen Buch.” Pascal repeated to himself. Could this door be in the school? He never recalled there being a room 666, but he had only been here for a few months. Whether it existed or not, Pascal knew he had to find out for himself. 

Picking up the scanner, he ran it over the barcode again, checking the book out under his name. While Pascal wasn't ready to believe that there were some sort of supernatural forces at work, he wanted to keep the self-writing book with him because part of him knew that whatever was happening, it was paranormal. 

The young teen threw his backpack over his shoulder, exited the library and walked to the nearest staircase. He ran up the stairs, all the way to the sixth floor. Once he made it, he followed the numbers on the door until he found the spot where the door should be. There was no door though. Only wall. Pascal held the book up, looking at the cover. It looked identical to the spot he was looking at, the only difference being the lack of a door. 

Pascal opened his bag and went to put the book inside when he heard a faint humming noise. Looking up, he couldn't believe what he saw. There it was. The door on the cover of the book. The sight was baffling. Up close, he couldn't tell it was a door. If it hadn't been for the picture on the cover, he would have thought it to be some sort of rift. He could see it extend through the ceiling and the floor, but couldn't comprehend how he could see it go through the ceiling and the floor. He could still see the stucco on the ceiling and the tiles on the floor, but he could see the void going through both and see it on the other side of both. 

He winced, the sight hurting his head. When he opened his eyes, he focused solely on the void in front of him. His heart started beating fast as he wondered what was behind the door. Pascal stepped towards the wall and placed his hand on it. Immediately, he pulled his hand away. It was freezing. He touched his hand to the other, feeling the immense difference in body temperature. 

Every logical thought in his mind was begging him not to continue. To just turn around and leave. But his gut...his gut wanted him to keep going. To find out what was on the other side. There was no doubt as to which one he would listen to. 

Pascal reached out to where the door handle would be and felt a cold, spherical handle. He quickly opened it and pushed the door open. He felt the door open but saw nothing. He just stared into the void. Without thinking, Pascal walked right into it.

Darkness. It was complete darkness. “Hello?” Pascal's voice echoed through the darkness. He turned around, unable to see where he came from. He went to walk out of the door that he had come in, but before he could, he heard the door slam, a gust of wind blasting him in the face. He reached out and looked for the door handle. It wasn't cold this time when he grabbed it. He tried turning it, but it wouldn't budge. 

He was locked in. He knew it. He didn't even bother pounding on the door or calling for help. He knew that wherever he was, it was unreachable to just anyone. The book had led him here and had only appeared by chance. There was no way anyone was going to stumble across him. He was stuck here until whatever guided him here guided someone else here too. So, Pascal ran his hand along the wall, finding a corner right next to the door. He sat down against it and placed his backpack in his lap. He knew it wasn't going to work, but he took out his phone just to see if it would help. He couldn't see anything, confirming suspicions. There was nothing left to do but wait. 

Pascal sat in the corner, his arms crossed on his knees, resting his head on top of them as he waited. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. He couldn't check his phone. There was no clock. No window to see if it was still bright outside. Just darkness. 

After a long time of sitting there, Pascal began to sing. He was trying his best not to panic. He was sitting alone in a dark room which he accessed through what he was certain was a magic door. The odds of someone finding him was slim. It was very likely that he could die here, alone, without even getting to say goodbye to his friends and family. While Pascal had acknowledged those thoughts to be very real and probable, he did his best not to linger on them. And so, he sang, clearing those nasty thoughts from his head. 

“Left a good job in the city. Workin' for the man every night and day.” He sang to himself, his soft, gentle voice echoing through the darkness. “And I never got one minute of sleep, worried 'bout the way things might have been. Big wheel keep on turnin'. Proud Mary keep on burnin'. Rolling. Rolling. Rolling down the river.” A smile spread across his lips as he thought about his grandmother, who used to play that song for him whenever they spent time together. One look at Pascal and it was easy to see that he was clearly into scene music and emo music, given his long, black bangs and occasional eye liner. While he did enjoy the melodrama and flamboyance of scene music and emo music, his first love had always been the R&B divas of the 70s and 80s. Aretha Franklin, Diana Ross, Gladys Knight, Donna Summer and of course, Tina Turner. They all had such passion whenever they performed and their big, belting vocals always inspired Pascal to have confidence. They were all beautiful, but they were also fighters. They commanded the stage and didn't just hold your attention, their talent and presence demanded it, and that resonated with him. 

More time passed as Pascal stopped singing. He ate his lunch, a simple turkey sandwich, and remained in the corner. Eventually, his eyelids felt heavy and he closed them, falling into slumber. He dreamed of his house, and more specifically, his room. He longed to feel the warmth of his bed and the comfort of his fluffy pillows. It was so weird, dreaming about sleeping, but it put him at peace. He felt the softness of his Invader Zim covers over him as he stared up at his ceiling at a poster of the Black Veil Brides. The scent of his grandmother's famous cinnamon rolls danced across his nostrils, making him clutch his covers as a smile spread across his face. 

BANG!

His room disappeared, replaced only with darkness. Pascal wiped his eyes out of habit, stopping when he realized that his vision wasn't going to get any clearer. Suddenly, there was a voice. “Come on. Open up!” Pascal was elated. Someone else was here! He stretched his arms out while the other person pounded on the door and felt the stranger's foot. He grabbed it, happy to feel something other than himself.

“Hello?” Pascal spoke up. “Are you beside me?” Pascal asked as he moved his hand across the stranger's shoe, making sure it was a person he was touching. 

“Is that your hand?” The other voice asked. 

“Yeah.” Pascal replied. 

“Where are you?” The voice asked. 

“Beside you. On the--” Pascal stopped himself as a small fire appeared far above his head, drawing his attention. It flickered softly. A second flame appeared at the end of his sight, far from the first one. Then a third appeared between the two. Suddenly, flames began to appear rapidly, all igniting a few meters above their heads. The darkness no longer existed, slowly giving way to the embers that lit up the room. 

Above them hung dozens of flame-lit chandeliers of varying heights. They couldn't tell what they were attached to because the chains that held them up disappeared into the vast darkness that still shrouded the ceiling. The area around them became more and more illuminated. Soon, the entire room was visible under the dim light of the chandeliers. The room seemed to be about the size of an average classroom. The walls and floor were made of stone. Pascal shifted his body, suddenly feeling the bumpiness of the stone beneath him and along his fingers as he ran his hand along the wall beside him. 

Standing up, he saw three arch windows that lined the wall opposite to the door, a lit torch between each of them and on the end of each wall. Along the right wall, there were only two torches on either side of the wall that kept the room lit. To the left of the windowed wall were some steps that lead to a heightened platform. There was a marble table in the center of the platform and a plinth right behind it. Behind the plinth, there was a massive statue of a bi-horned, bipedal, winged, hoofed humanoid with a sadistic grin, a pointed tail and a trident in one hand. It didn't take a lot for Pascal to guess who the statue was depicting. Pascal's eyes traveled down the statue, stopping when he saw the large, thick, flaccid, uncut stone penis. It was huge. It made sense since the devil was supposed to be lustful, but it still took him by surprise. Perhaps it was because all of the statues he had seen depicted men with small appendages. 

Pascal turned around to look at the wall behind him. Much like before, the door seemed less like a door and more like a void. He tried opening it, but it was still closed. He looked along the wall, which was lined with shelves, bookcases and cabinets. The other male was already rummaging through all of it. The other male! It was the first time Pascal had laid eyes on the only other person in here with him. The boy seemed to be older than him. He was pale like him, taller than him and had short, ginger hair. He didn't seem to be muscular, but he wasn't skinny. “They're all empty.” The other male said to him. 

“What's your name?” Pascal asked, foregoing his observation. 

“Isaac.” He replied. 

“I'm Pascal. I'm a freshman at Ezra D. Buch.” Pascal told him. While he had accessed this room from his high school, he wasn't sure if Isaac had come from the same place or somewhere else. 

“I'm a junior.”

“At Ezra D. Buch?”

“Yeah.” At least now Pascal knew that whatever this room was, it seemed to only be linked to his high school. 

The younger teen moved his attention back to the room. In the center of the room, there was a massive, wooden dining table that ran all the way from a couple of feet from the steps of the left side of the room to about ten feet away from the right wall. There were no chairs. 

Pascal walked over to the windows. As he got closer to them, he could hear rain falling. It was pounding the outside of the walls. It was only when he was just a couple feet away from the first window that he saw drops of water on the panes of glass. He slowly approached it, looking beyond the glass. It was completely dark.

## KRRRACK!

Lightning flashed outside as thunder roared through the room. Pascal shielded his eyes with his arm, the sudden flash of white light hurting his eyes that had spent hours adjusting to the darkness around him. 

“Our lord and saviour. Blessed be anyone he deems worthy to be in his company.” Pascal turned around as Isaac spoke up, the redhead standing by the statue of the devil. “It's engraved on the bottom.” He said, pointing to the front of the stone that the devil was standing on. 

“Are we in hell?” Pascal asked. 

“I don't know.” Isaac replied. “I don't think we can rule that out.” He added. The redhead smirked as he looked at the statue again. “That'd be funny. Everyone's wondering if hell exists, and here it is, in our high school.” He said as he continued observing the large statue.

Pascal checked the other windows. It was more of the same. Darkness. He headed over to the table, running his finger along the edge. He felt some ridges in it. Looking closer, it seemed like the lid of the table had been carved into some sort of mural. There were skulls and all sorts of ghoulish creatures with multiple limbs and multiple tongues. There were skeletons and skulls, as well as decaying bodies. The monsters seemed to be chasing and feasting on anything that looked remotely human. At the front of the table, near the wall with nothing on it, was a face engraved into the center of the lid that was identical to the one in the statue. Pascal wondered if maybe the carvings were telling a story, one that he didn't quite understand yet. 

“Did you find anything?” Isaac asked. 

“Not really. I think there might be some sort of story engraved on the lip of this table. Maybe a battle of some sort?” Pascal suggested. “But nothing other than that.” 

“Then I guess we just sit here and wait.” Isaac said as he took a seat on the steps. 

“I wish there were seats at least.” Pascal said as he walked over to the steps. He felt a gust of wind blow behind him.

Turning around, Pascal's jaw dropped when he saw two chairs, one on either side of the table. The chairs looked more like mini thrones, each a different colour. The chair nearest to the windows had a bright, red interior while the opposite chair had a black interior. Both chairs had lavish, gold detailing along the armrests and the frame of the chair, which gave it the throne look. 

“Where did those come from?” Pascal asked as he stepped towards the red chair. 

“They just appeared. Out of nowhere.” Isaac replied. “They just...appeared.” The redhead was clearly at a lost for words. 

Pascal inspected the red chair closely. Upon closer inspection, the golden detailing on the chair resembled flames. On the armrests, it looked like there were bodies being burned alive. Under the right light, it almost seemed like the gold moved, making it seem like the fire was alive. There were charred bones and skulls woven into the frame of the chair, and at the very top, there was an insignia. It was a pentagram inside of a circle. Pascal ran his finger along the ridges of the pentagram. He swore he could feel it pulsing.

“Pascal.” Isaac said, his voice filled with dread. The younger male looked up to see Isaac standing by the black chair. 

“Y-Yeah?” Pascal replied. He didn't like the uneasiness in Isaac's voice. 

“Your name. It's on this chair.”


	3. Ricky

The first whistle blew. The sophomore climbed his starting platform, water dripping down his light, brown skin. The remnants of the last race made the young teen's body glisten under the fluorescent lighting of the pool, his developing body put on full display. Muscles had begun to set into place for the swimmer and he was well on his way to gaining definition. Most notably, the teen had a set of emerging abs, as well as a hint of burgeoning traps. 

“Swimmers, take your mark.” The sophomore bent over, pressing his foot up against the raised step behind him. He pushed against it a few times, making sure he could get enough of a push when the buzzer sounded. Looking forward, he glanced at the lane in front of him. Fifty meters of water there. Fifty meters back. Easy. He could do this in his sleep.

He looked up, keeping his eyes on the end of his lane. At least, he tried to. In his peripherals, he could see her. The woman of his dreams. Tall, fair, blonde, athletic. Lexie was everything he ever wanted in a girl. He turned his head to glance at her quickly before his eyes wandered south, looking at the clipboard that she held in front of her chest. She was wearing a tight, red top that was showing off her cleavage. If only she would move that clipboard. The swimmer snapped out of his gaze when he felt a splash of water on his face. 

He turned back to the pool to see that the others had dove into water. Had the buzzer went off? “Shit!” He followed suit, diving out into the water. He kicked his legs, trying to gain as much length off of his dive as possible before he emerged from the water. Once he did, his instincts kicked in. His arms pulled back, rotated and shot forward, piercing the water with ease. His freestyle stroke had always been his best. 

As he approached the end of his lane, he would touch it with both hands, bring his knees up to his chest and push off of it, launching himself in the reverse direction. His arms moved briskly through the water, his legs kicking rapidly as he did his best to make up for lost time. He kept a steady rhythm for his breathing, making sure to take a breathe every two strokes. 

His hands touched the wall. He sprung out of the water, panting heavily as he slipped his goggles off of his head. Looking around, he saw his teammates touch the wall after him. He felt a wave of relief wash over him. Maybe coming first would make Coach Steffen overlook his delayed start? 

“Martinez!” The latino male saw his bald-headed coach looking down at him. He was beginning to curse himself for picking the lane closest to the coach. He did not like the angry tone in his Mr. Steffen's voice. He tried not look directly up at his coach, partially out of fear, partially because he didn't want to see up his loose cargo shorts. Mr. Steffen was quite a scary man. He wore some variation of a Polo tucked into cargo shorts every day, and even though he dressed like a dork, the man was tall and built like a marine. Being on his bad side was practically a death wish. 

“What did I tell you about losing focus?” Mr. Steffen asked sternly.

“Uhh...don't?” Ricky replied. That didn't seem to be the right response. Mr. Steffen shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Ricky was pretty certain it was a curse word. He looked over at Lexie, who rolled her eyes. Damn. 

“Martinez, go wash off. You're done for the day.” Coach Steffen told him. Ricky knew there was no point in trying to convince Coach Steffen to let him stay. Whenever he gave an order, that was it. No ifs, ands or buts. Ricky hopped out of the pool. He didn't want to look at his teammates because he knew they were glaring at him for what was about to happen. 

“Now, since Martinez still beat all of you despite having a multiple second handicap, it's clear that you all need some more work. Fifty laps, now!” The coach ordered. Ricky heard a few groans before the boys all began their extra laps. 

He stood up and began to walk away, but turned to face the bald, older male. “Sorry about that coach. I'll do better next time.” The coach didn't acknowledge him, but Ricky could tell he heard him. Coach Steffen was loud, strict, and downright scary, but deep down the former Marine knew Ricky was a hard worker, and that's what the coach respected the most. 

The sophomore walked down the length of the pool and stepped into the locker room. It was a standard change room, with lockers lining the walls and lined up in rows throughout the room. There were benches in between each row and an area in the back where one could take a shower. As Ricky made his way to the showers, he saw a tall, lithe, brunette with short, curly hair exiting the shower. The water dripped down his lanky, olive-skinned body. When the teen saw Ricky, he smiled. “Leaving already?” He asked. 

“I screwed up.” Ricky replied.

“That's nothing new.” The blonde replied. “What did you do this time?” 

“Nothing, really. I just got distracted and started a bit late on one of my runs.”

“Does this distraction have long, blonde hair?”

“She was wearing a tight shirt today. Her tits were basically hanging out. It was impossible not to look.” 

“Dude, when are you gonna realize she doesn't date homos?” The teen said, teasing his friend. Ricky punched him in the shoulder.

“You're one to talk. Everyone knows that for a good time, they just gotta call you. It's written all over the stalls in the bathrooms. 'For the world's best BJs, call Reid.' I wrote it myself.” 

“If I ever decided to suck a dick, it'd never be yours. I'd suck the janitor off before you.” Reid replied.

“What's wrong? Too big for you?” Ricky said as he grabbed his crotch.

“You're a fuckin' loser.” Reed replied, smiling. “I better get out there quick. Told Coach I'd be half an hour late. One second later and he'll...well he'll kick me out of practice.” Ricky flipped his friend off, who would flip Ricky off before leaving the locker room. 

The latino removed his swim trunks and stepped into the shower. He pressed on the knob, letting the water run over his body, making sure to get any bit of chlorine off of him. As the water splashed over him, he couldn't help but reflect on what had just happened. He knew he would have to make it up to Coach Steffen next time he came to practice. He had to prove to him that he could stay focused. Coach said he was on track to break records this year, and he wanted to. All he had to do was find a way to get Lexie out of his head. It was impossible to not look at her. She was so beautiful and so sexy. And today, it was totally unfair. Her cleavage was on full display. How could he not stare? 

Ricky turned the shower off before he got himself too worked up thinking about Lexie and her curvy figure. He grabbed a towel and wiped himself off while he opened his locker. He grabbed his underwear first, slipping on a pair of forest green boxer briefs. He had only recently made the switch to boxer briefs. He thought they made him look more distinguished. He threw on a pair of grey jogging pants and a green shirt with the Tri-Force on it. He then grabbed his purple hoodie, putting his arms through the sleeves as he exited the locker room. 

He stepped out onto the first floor, where the pool was located. It was the smallest floor out of all six floors in Ezra D. Buch Academy. There wasn't a lot down here. It was mostly supply closets, maintenance rooms, the dance studios and the offices for the indoor sports coaches. There were a few classrooms as well that were used for the mandatory health classes, along with rows of lockers. The walls, unlike the rest of the school which were decorated by awards and art projects, mainly consisted of old graduate composites, dating all the way back to the 1930s. 

The bottom floor never had a lot of foot traffic until the end of the day. After school, it was pretty much a ghost town. It always unnerved Ricky, who made his way to the staircase quickly. He walked up one floor to the second and main floor and was about to go out one of the side doors in the staircase when he felt his phone vibrate. 

Ricky reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPhone. The screen lit up to show he had received a text message that read: “Come to Room 666”. Ricky cocked an eyebrow when he read it. There was no sender information. Usually it said the name of the person who texted, and if the person wasn't in his contacts, it would show the number. 

There was nothing. 

It almost looked photoshopped. Ricky opened his phone and clicked on the text, pulling it up. There should be an encircled, white silhouette of a person if it was an unknown number and the number itself, but again, there was nothing. “Who is this?” He texted back. Another gray balloon appeared. Another text message that read: “Come to Room 666.”

Ricky locked his phone and looked at the time. He had some time before he had to get home. He could stop by this room 666 to see what this was all about. So, the sophomore headed all the way upstairs, climbing to the sixth floor. He followed the room numbers, getting to room 665. He looked at where room 666 should be, but there was nothing. He checked the text on his phone to make sure he got the room number right. As he stared down at his phone, he reread the text. It definitely said 666, so why did her--

Ricky felt himself seize up. He couldn't explain the phenomenon. It was as if an invisible force was grasping at his heart. He could feel it beat faster, trying to break free of whatever was gripping it. He looked up from his phone to see the wall that was bare before now was covered by some sort of void. Somehow, he could see the void extending beyond the ceiling and the floor. He stepped forward, getting closer to the door, and crouched down. He tried to touch the part of the void that seemingly seeped through the ground, but his hand would be stopped by the floor. Even as his hand laid flat against the floor, he could see the void underneath his hand. He winced as he looked away, his brain unable to process what it was seeing. 

He stood up and faced the void, his hand reaching out along the right side to find the door knob he knew to be there. Something in his heart of hearts told him that this was a door, and as he suspected, his fingers would come across something smooth and round. He grabbed it and turned it, the frigid cold of the knob unable to deter the sophomore, who wanted to find out more about what this entire anomaly was. 

Click. 

The door was open. He pushed the door open, and as his hand pushed forward, he would watch as it disappeared into the darkness. Before he knew what he was doing, he stepped forward and into the void. 

Everything was black. There wasn't a single iota of light wherever he was. Against his better judgement, he let go of the door knob, and as he did, the door slammed shut. He turned around to try and open the door, but it wouldn't budge. He did an about face and stared into the void. “Hello?” He yelled out. He could hear his voice echo, but there was no response. “It's creepy as shit in here. Anyone wanna explain what the hell is going on?” He called out. “Like seriously, this is some horror movie type shit. I'd like to leave now. Thanks.” Still, no response.

“So am I just stuck here now? I'm going to die here, aren't I? I should have known better to friggin' follow some random text. It's exactly how all those dumb girls die in the movies. God damn it. I'm no better than them right now. Just great. I spend an eternity making fun of them and now I've become them.” He said out loud. 

“Nothing? No light? No ominous voice?” Ricky asked, getting more frustrated than scared. “Screw it. Guess I better start moving.” Ricky said as he reached out in front of him. He began to slowly walk forward, waving his arms around to try and find something else inside of this void to orient himself with. “My parents are going to kill me.” He muttered to himself as he continued to walk forward. 

**_BANG!_ **

“Motherf--!!” Ricky doubled over as he went to raise his foot to step forward, only to bash it right into the edge of something. As he bent forward to grab his leg, he felt a flat surface and felt the very edge that his knee collided with. He closed his eyes as he held his leg, groaning in pain. When he opened his eyes, the groaning grew quieter. He could see again. 

In front of him as a massive dining table that had two elaborate thrones, one red and one black, seated across from each other near the head of the table. The table itself extended from the front of the room to the back of the room, where there were steps that seemed to lead to a raised platform. There was a massive statue of a creature that looked like the Devil on the platform behind a marble table. Directly in front of him was a wall lined with three gothic-styled windows. His eyes finally focused on the two most notable things in this room. 

The first was a tall, pale, redheaded male who was standing behind the red throne. There was a coldness to his eyes. They were almost emotionless as they peered at him. The other was a shorter, black hoodie-wearing male with long, black bangs that he swept over one of his eyes. He was standing at the head of the table, one arm reaching out to touch Ricky on his arm.

“Are you alright?” The shorter, and clearly younger, male asked.

“Yeah. I'll be fine.” Ricky replied.

“We told you to watch out.” The redhead told him.

“We kept shouting at you when we saw you enter.”

“I didn't hear shit.” Ricky said as the pain had finally devolved to a dull ache in his knees. “Where the hell are we?” He asked.

“That's what we're trying to figure out.” The redhead said.

“I'm Pascal.” The younger male said. “That's Isaac. We're both students at Ezra D. Buch Academy. Do you go there too?”

“Yeah. He's that swimmer that placed in nationals last year.” Isaac said. Even in this environment, Ricky couldn't help but smile at being recognized. 

“I'm Ricky. And yeah, I'm a sophomore at E.D.B.” He replied. 

“So how did you get lured here?” Pascal asked. 

“I got a text. What about you guys?”

“Note in my locker.” Isaac stated.

“And I had this book.” Pascal reached into his bag and pulled out the book that read “The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus”. “All the words in the book suddenly changed to 'Come to Room 666'. At one point, the front cover had a picture of the door on it and it said it was written by Ezra D. Buch.”

“How long have you guys been here?” Ricky asked.

“I came here in the morning, before school started.” Pascal said.

“I found the note in my locker once school was done.” Isaac stated. “What time was it when you stepped through?” The redhead asked. 

“I was leaving swim practice early, so it couldn't have been more than--” Ricky reached down to pull out his phone to check the time, only to see that it wasn't on it. There was no internet connection either and no cell service. He put his phone away after realizing it was useless in here. “It would have been around four o'clock.”

“That's about an hour after you would have come here, right Isaac?” Pascal asked.

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “It didn't feel like an hour.” Isaac added.

“It felt like days went by before you showed up.” Pascal told the redhead. 

“Considering how many strange things have happened in this room, I don't think we can rule out that time travels slower in here than the outside world.” Isaac hypothesized. 

“What other strange shit has happened?” Ricky asked. 

“Well, when I was in here, there was only darkness.” Pascal said. “Shortly after Isaac came in, the room sort of revealed itself to us. The darkness just vanished and everything sort of appeared.” The younger male explained. 

“And then there's the chairs.” Isaac added.

“You mean the thrones?” Ricky asked.

“Yeah. I watched them just pop into existence. There was no sound. One moment there was nothing, then in the next moment, they were there.” The redhead explained. 

“This is a lot to take in.” Ricky remarked as he went to sit down in the black chair, only to feel something pushing up against him, disallowing him from sitting down. “What the hell? I can't even sit down?” Ricky tried forcing his ass onto the throne, but it was as if there was a magnetic force repelling him. He grew frustrated and just turned around to sit on top of the table. “So you have thrones you can't sit in as well?” He asked as he turned his body so he could see both Isaac and Pascal. 

“We haven't tried sitting in them yet.” Pascal told him. 

“Why not?”

“They have our names on it.” Isaac said. Ricky immediately got up and looked at the black chair, inspecting it to find the name. Pascal walked over and pointed to the top of the back of the chair. In gold detailing, Pascal's name was engraved into the elaborate, gold filigree. “That one's Pascal's, and this one is mine.” Isaac told him. 

Ricky glanced across the table to look at the red throne, and then back at the black one. Both thrones had ornate detailing, but they were very different. There were similar elements to both designs. They both had skulls and bones along the sides of the back cushion and the armrests. Both had what looked like humans being destroyed in some fashion. On the red throne, they were being burnt alive. On Pascal's throne, they seemed to be missing limbs. 

At the top of Isaac's throne, the filigree formed a giant flame, which seemed to be the theme of the throne given how much fire was woven into the detailing. Pascal's throne had a different theme. It seemed more bestial, more specifically, more lupine. There were golden wolves woven into the design and it looked like they travelled up and down the chair. The top of Pascal's throne had a large wolf's head howling, and while Isaac's throne seemed to almost move like it was on fire, Pascal's throne seemed to almost shimmer, like the full moon in a starry sky. 

“We're worried that if we sit in our chairs, we might be agreeing to something we know nothing about.” Pascal explained. 

“It's clear who this room was built for.” Isaac said, pointing to the Devil statue at the back. “It's been documented that he's very tricky. If we sit on them, who knows what we're signing up for.” 

“Makes sense.” Ricky replied. “So, what do we do now?” He asked.

“We wait.” Pascal said. Isaac pulled out his phone and opened up the stopwatch. He clicked start and watched the numbers roll. 

“You're literally just going to count the seconds as they go by?” Ricky asked the redhead.

“No.” Isaac replied. “There's a chance someone else might be coming. You said it was around four o'clock when you came in, right?” He asked. Ricky nodded his head. “If someone else comes, I want to test the theory that times moves slower in here. If the time they say doesn't match what we've timed, then we know time is different in here.” 

“Smart.” Ricky remarked.

“Thanks.” Isaac replied. 

An hour passed as the three students stood and sat around the room. They inspected every last nook and cranny and found that it was mostly empty. Pascal had crouched down and was studying the edge of the table, running his finger along the engraving in the side. He had started at the head and made his way to the opposite side of the table. Isaac stood by the window, holding his phone while staring out into the thundering void. 

Ricky sat against the wall with nothing on it and just stared in front of him, seeing both of his acquaintances, the table, the thrones and the platform at the back. “That's an altar, isn't it.” Ricky stated, looking at the marble table on the raised platform. 

“I think so.” Isaac replied.

“You don't think we have to sacrifice anyone to get out, do we?” Ricky asked.

“Even if we do, we won't.” The redhead declared. Ricky looked over at Isaac, who was making eye contact with him. It was clear he was adamant about what he just said. It was reassuring to know he was in the room with someone as calm as Isaac. Even through all of this confusion, he was thinking clearly and rationally. 

“Hey. You said those thrones with your names on it just appeared, right? How long did it take?” Ricky asked. 

“Couldn't have been more than a few minutes after the room lit up.” Pascal answered.

“How much time has passed so far?” Ricky asked Isaac.

“Just over an hour.” Isaac replied. 

“Alright. I'm just wondering...where's my throne?”

“What?” Isaac turned to look at Ricky, and the question made Pascal finally tear his eyes away from the table to look at the latino. He stood up and walked over to Isaac's throne.

“Well you both got one.” Ricky stated. “It seems the only criteria for these chairs is to be in this room. I've been here for an hour, so what's the deal?” He asked.

“That's a good question.” Pascal said, wondering why he hadn't thought about that before.

“Why would you want one?” Isaac asked. “They could mean trouble. If you don't have one, it means no trouble for you.”

“But what if it doesn't mean trouble? What if it's linked to our exit out of here? That means you two get to walk free and I don't.” Ricky retorted as he ran his fingers along the side of Isaac's throne. The redhead had no answer. They had been basing their actions off of the assumption that the thrones were bad, but Ricky thought it was important to consider the opposite. 

The room was silent, but Ricky could almost hear the other two contemplating the new idea Ricky threw out. He could see both boys staring at their thrones, wondering if it was worth sitting in. 

**_KRRAAKKK!_ **

A bright flash of lightning lit up the room as the thunder boomed outside of the window. In that flash of light, something caught Ricky's eye. A glimmer that had appeared for a split second, hovering in the air beside Isaac's throne. Ricky concentrated on where that glimmer was. There was nothing there, but suddenly, he could see the air moving. It was ever so slight, but he could almost see small waves, like a mirage, right in front of him. He could see the steps behind the chair, but as he peered at where the glimmer was, the form of the steps didn't seem to line up. The rigid lines of the stone seemed to bend in the tiniest degrees. 

Ricky stepped towards the spot where the glimmer was. He reached out towards it, and to his surprise, he felt something solid. It felt like...metal. 

Suddenly, as if being uncovered by a gust of wind, a gold, ornate, wiry frame appeared. It started with two concentric, gold circles at the top. The negative space was completely translucent. The gold filigree revealed itself traveling downwards, outlining the back cushion of a throne and two arms rests before crawling down to outline four legs. Inspecting it closer, it also had skulls, bones and humans dying, but it also had several human faces with no details. There were holes for eyes, but no eyes. There was a bump for the nose, but no nostrils. He walked around to the back, and sure enough, written in elaborate, gold lettering was “Ricky”. 

“So you did have a throne all this time.” Pascal said, staring at the floating gold frame of a throne.

“We just couldn't see it.” Isaac added. 

“And it's the creepiest. Sick.” Ricky remarked in astonishment. Yeah, it was by far the most unsettling chair of the three, but that also kind of meant it was the best one. These thrones were designed to be distressing, and his invoked that response the most. He was oddly proud of it. He ran his hand along the back. The throne was virtually invisible. Had the lightning not caught the form of the throne the right way, Ricky never would have seen it. Now, it was visible to everyone thanks to the gold detailing that seemed to hover in the air. 

He knew that there was one thing on everyone's mind now. He looked as Isaac, and then at Pascal. 

“Don't!” Isaac warned, but before the word even left his mouth, Ricky sat down. 

He braced himself for something to happen, tightening up his body and closing his eyes...but nothing happened. “Well, that was a bust.” Ricky said as he went to get up, only to see the others staring at the wall that had nothing on it.

At least, it used to have nothing on it.

Now, across the entire wall, in big, blood red letters, it read:

# YOUR REBIRTH IS NEAR.

Ricky gulped as he read the words that dripped onto the floor.

“Fuck.”


End file.
